How To Paint
by icecountry
Summary: Full title: How To Paint Your Way To Kissing Your Boss in One Easy Step. Season 3. Evan, Elizabeth, booze, empty mess hall, and did I mention booze?


**How To Paint Your Way To Kissing Your Boss in One Easy Step**

**Rating:** PG-13  
**Genre:** fluff, romance  
**Pairings:** Elizabeth Weir/Evan Lorne  
**Spoilers:** none  
**Summary:** Season 3. Evan, Elizabeth, booze, empty mess hall, and did I mention booze?

* * *

The alcohol must be making him say strange things. That had to be the reason his boss was staring at him the way she was - as if he'd sprouted another head. 

"What is it?" Evan said, trying very hard to act as sober as possible. Though the impromptu party they'd decided to throw for the anniversary of the discovery of Atlantis two years ago had made sobriety quite difficult to retain.

Elizabeth merely took a sip of her own drink in response. Suddenly worried that he _had_ sprouted another head, he clumsily patted around his neck and shoulders, checking for extra appendages. Elizabeth giggled, presumably at him.

"Are you laughing at me?" he asked, making a show of turning around to look for something amusing going on behind him. However, there was only two people in the shadows of the mess hall, quietly talking. Most everyone else had gone back to their quarters by now to pass out in their own beds. He was surprised to note their relative solitude; he had been so wrapped up in their drinking game he hadn't even noticed.

"Only a little," Elizabeth grinned, setting her drink down on the table between them. Except she put the drink down a little too hard, slamming the cup so the liquid inside sloshed all over her hand and the table. "Oops," she muttered.

Picking up her now wet hand, Elizabeth dabbed at it absentmindedly with a napkin while she regarded the man in front of her. "I liked your painting of me," she said quietly.

Evan's cheeks pinked slightly. He felt the warming of his face and reasoned that it must be the alcohol. "Well, I like to paint. And there's a lot of good subjects in the Pegasus galaxy. Like... Hermiod. I painted Hermiod once," he finished weakly.

A smirk crossed Elizabeth's face. "Did you leave Hermiod's painting for him as a present in his quarters?"

"The colonel said it'd be okay..." he trailed off. He wasn't sure to say, now that she'd brought it up. It had felt like a good idea at the time. Just leave it laying across her bed, with a little note: _Happy Anniversary_. Evan thought maybe he'd gone too far, having the colonel let him into her quarters. She'd never seemed bothered by his appearance at her door, letting him in at virtually all hours to talk whenever he'd needed it. Maybe he'd gotten too comfortable there.

But Elizabeth didn't seem upset at all. In fact, she seemed increasingly amused at his discomfort.

"It's fine," she replied. She eyed him as she slowly lifted one of her fingers that still had some alcohol residue on it to her lips. Elizabeth slipped part of her finger into her mouth, licking the alcohol off with slow strokes of her tongue.

Evan wasn't aware of the fact that he was staring. He wasn't even aware of the fact that he'd stopped breathing. If he had been aware, he would have blamed it on the alcohol. As it was, all he could do was make a choking sound as his vision filled with the sights of Elizabeth's _lips_ and Elizabeth's _tongue_.

He thought he heard her make a quiet _mmm_ sound, but he couldn't be sure if he was making it up. He had to refrain from pinching himself as it was.

A slow grin crossed Elizabeth's face as she placed her hand on the table. She picked up her cup again and leaned forward, towards Evan. She was so close, he could feel her breath breezing against his face. Was she coming on to him? His muddled brain couldn't quite work out whether he should try to kiss her or act like it was perfectly natural to have your face five inches away from your boss' face.

He didn't have time to come to a conclusion, however, as he felt a cold liquid drizzle on his hand. Startled, he looked down to see that Elizabeth's cup was tilted over his hand. "Oops again," she said, looking not at all sorry. "Let me clean it up for you."

She took his hand in hers - her skin was so _cool_ against his hot palm - and patted his hand with the napkin delicately. "Looks like I literally can't hold my liquor tonight," Elizabeth sighed. She pulled his hand toward her face, and blew air over his alcohol-covered thumb, sending a chill through him as the liquid quickly evaporated. Meeting his eyes, she put her lips against his thumb. Evan knew his mouth was open, but yet again, nothing came out. Darting her tongue out from between her lips, Elizabeth licked his thumb, despite the fact that the alcohol had evaporated away.

As soon as she let go of his hand, he reached forward, placing his hands on either side of her face and moved in for a kiss. He had struggled to find his voice and failed, but Evan still had the ability to move, at least. His mouth against hers, his tongue teased her lips until she fought back with her own tongue. They explored each other's mouths hungrily, and when Elizabeth threaded her fingers into his hair, Evan groaned against her.

After a moment they pulled apart, both a little breathless. Startled to discover that he had half climbed over the table in the process of kissing Elizabeth, Evan slid back down into his seat. He glanced at his drinking partner - and now kissing partner - and was pleased to note with a certain amount of male satisfaction that she was rather disheveled-looking and was having a hard time getting her bearings as she smoothed the same piece of hair behind her ear over and over again.

Some part of his mind shouted that it was a stupid move to have kissed her, but it was the alcohol, _damnit_, and he just couldn't help himself. Either way, he had a hard time caring for long that what they'd done was probably very inappropriate.

"I should paint you like this," he chuckled, having rediscovered his ability to speak. "I don't think anyone in the city has seen you looking quite so ruffled before." Elizabeth giggled and flicked liquid from her cup at him with her fingers.

"Speaking of paintings, mine is still sitting on my bed. I think I need some help hanging it in my quarters." Elizabeth attempted to act nonchalant about the request, but Evan thought he noted a gleam in her eyes.

"Yes ma'am," he grinned.

Together they got up and headed towards the door, taking no note of the two Atlantis crew members who pretended to still be in deep conversation as their eyes followed them from the mess hall.


End file.
